


Down in the Valley

by tis_a_silly_place



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26583652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tis_a_silly_place/pseuds/tis_a_silly_place
Summary: In an attempt to get back into writing, I'll be working on these writing prompts! They'll all be Stardew Valley related. Let me know if you'd like to suggest/request a specific character work or prompt!www.thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Tech Support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 232\. Tech Support: Use computers or a conversation with tech support you’ve had as inspiration.

“This is the FIFTH TIME I HAVE CALLED YOU. And NO ONE is able to solve this problem. What is wrong with you?? I have NEVER spoken to a more incompetent group of people.”

“Ma’am, I understand your frustration. Unfortunately, your problem is not related to your Joja phone or account. You need to contact your Internet provider to see why your signal is failing. We are unable to help you because our software and phone are not the issue.”

“I NEVER-”

“I see in your file that the last time you called with this issue, the tech ran you through our troubleshooting guidelines, and we found no errors in our Joja software or hardware. I can run the troubleshooting program again, but I’m afraid it will have the same result. You need to contact your internet provider. We are not affiliated with them.”

The voice on the other end turned icy. “What is your name?”

“As I stated at the beginning of the call, my name is Natalie.”

“Well, _Natalie_ ,” Venon dripped through her words as she hissed. “I would like to speak to your manager.”

“You are welcome to do so, but there will be at minimum an hour wait to reach a supervisor. I will transfer you now. Thank you for calling today.”

“YOU LITTLE B-”

Ending these calls was always cathartic, even though I knew my abrupt manner on a recorded call would be grounds for a review with my supervisor. I’d passed the point of caring.

I opened my desk drawer to pull out my company-issued stress ball. The HR representative had smiled sweetly as she passed them around the office. “This team is so productive! We just wanted to give you a little something as a token of our appreciation.”

_Pay us more then, you cheap bastards. Treat us like actual people…_

Underneath a pile of sticky notes, I noticed the corner of a shimmering envelope. Five years ago when I started at Joja, I brought my favorite coffee mug, my lucky pen, and this envelope. Over time, the coffee mug shattered, the lucky pen was stolen, and I forgot this envelope was here. 

Glancing around to see who was watching my lack of work, I tentatively broke the seal. My eyes welled with tears at the sight of Grandpa’s handwriting.

_“If you're reading this, you must be in dire need of a change. The same thing happened to me, long ago. I'd lost sight of what mattered most in life... real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.”_

Behind the letter was a copy of his simple will, and the deed to Orchard Farms. My mind flooded with memories spent there as a child: sitting on Grandpa’s shoulders to pick apples in the fall, smushing blackberries and grapes so Grandma could make wine, running around with the goats and sheep, and early mornings learning to fish on the southern pond. My visits were less frequent once Grandma got sick, and I only stayed for a week or so before returning home to my parents. After she passed, Grandpa seemed to slow down overnight. No more picking apples or squishing berries. He sold most of the animals and didn’t plant anything in his last few years.

I remembered the last visit we made to Orchard Farms. He looked so weak, laying in bed with no strength to even sit up. He spoke to my parents as I sat outside the bedroom, dragging string along the floor and watching the house cat run back and forth. Mom brought me into the room, tears in her eyes as Grandpa beckoned me to his bed.

“Natalie… you have brought many years of joy and laughter to this farm. My fondest days involved watching you learn about the world and grow up here. I wish more than anything that I could pick you up and help you gather apples and berries again… I want you to grow up and be happy, whatever that means for you. I hope that one day, you’ll return to this town and experience the peace that lives here.”

He reached to his nightstand and handed me this now-faded envelope, originally bright white and sealed with a shimmering seal.

“For my very special granddaughter: I want you to have this sealed envelope. No, no, don’t open it yet… have patience. Now, listen close. There will come a day when you feel crushed by the burden of modern life and your bright spirit will fade before a growing emptiness. When that happens, my dear, you’ll be ready for this gift. Now, let Grandpa rest…”

I had kissed his forehead as he drifted to sleep, not knowing he wouldn’t wake up the next day. The next few days passed in a blur as movers emptied the farmhouse, the last two chickens were sold, and we returned home to the city. I thought about Grandpa and Orchard Farms over the years, but I was happy. It wasn’t until I lost my dream job that I ended up at Joja to make ends meet.

Now I sat at my desk, five years later, more miserable that I ever imagined a person could be. I had the opportunity to get out. To start life again in the place that brought my family happiness. I had to take it.

I took out a sticky note, not bothering to type an official resignation letter. Five letters, two words. I signed my name and stuck it to the computer monitor, now showing a “RESUME WORK” message in the bottom right corner. Passing my coworkers stuck in the same endless hell, I stepped out of the Joja complex. The sun was bright in my eyes and I searched my bag for sunglasses. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw daylight during the work week.

Smiling up into the sky, I began my walk home. For the first time in many years, my day was full of promise and hope.


	2. Underwater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 234\. Underwater: Write about sea creatures and under water life. What’s under the surface of the ocean? What adventures might be waiting?

Willy sat on the edge of his pier, feet dangling above the breaking waves. A calm and steady wind blew in from the ocean, bringing in the smell of salt and sea. His hands loosely gripped the fishing rod, the amount of strength and pressure perfected over the decades. Willy remembered the advice he had given to the farmer on his first day in town. _You don’t want to be too relaxed, but not tightly wound either. The fish can sense your tension on the rod._ _Find the right balance, and the fish will practically jump into your cooler._ He chuckled at the memory of the bright-eyed youth taking the old and battered fishing rod, promising to do his best. Willy had coached the farmer for the better part of the morning, cheering as the youth reeled in anchovy after anchovy. It was a slow start, but a start nonetheless.

He gazed across the ocean, taking in the shining aqua capped with white. In the distance, a pod of dolphins began to breach, enthusiastically jumping across the horizon.

_What was their world like?_ Willy wondered. He’d always been drawn to the sea but had never seen what lived below the ocean’s constant waves.

He imagined bright coral reefs, waving seaweed, and schools of fish flitting along the ocean floor. Crabs dancing on the seabed, fighting for the small bits of food floating from the sand. Clownfish darting in and out of anemones, waiting for a moment of safety to leave their homes. Sharks roaming the empty waters and traveling for miles for a fresh kill. Stingrays gracefully falling through the water, long thin tails floating in the currents. Blue whales bringing their newborn calves to the surface for their first breath of air. Octopuses walking across the rocky floor and immediately turning to camouflage at the first sense of danger. Oysters diligently growing pearls, creating beauty out of a simple and irritating piece of sand. Penguins, ghostly shipwrecks, giant squid, killer whales, intricate coral reefs, seals. All things Willy had heard of but had never seen.

The ocean teemed with life unknown, and Willy was stuck on the pier. It wasn’t a bad life, fishing here. But his life lacked color. It lacked the vibrancy that Willy only saw through glimpses as he emptied the crab pots or reeled in snappers and squid.

“WILLY!” The afternoon’s peace was shattered as the farmer’s voice carried across the beach.

“I CAUGHT IT!” The farmer ran down the pier, feet slapping against the wooden planks. “I CAUGHT THE LEGEND.”

Willy blinked in the sunlight. “Funny joke, farmer. No one has even seen the Legend in over a decade.”

“No, really! I have it in over here. Come see! I didn’t want to drag the cooler across the sand so I left it by Elliot’s house.”

As the farmer continued to babble, Willy rose to hit feet, reeling in his line. He followed the farmer through the hot sand towards Elliot’s shack, where a large cooler on wheels sat in the shade. The farmer ran towards it and flung open the chest for Willy to see.

Sure enough, floating in the cooler was the Legend, the fish Willy only caught a glimpse of years ago before it escaped his line. Tranquil despite his captivity, the fish swam from one end of the cooler to the next.

The farmer spoke, “What do I do with it? I’m not going to eat it. I guess I could sell it, but then he’ll just end up eaten anyway…”

Willy paused, his eyes on the strange green fish circling the cooler below him. “Let him go, son. His world is more interesting than ours.”


	3. It's Not Unusual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 241\. Comedy Club: Write something inspired by a comedian.

“We have to be subtle about it, guys.”

Sebastian and Sam nodded in response, following Abigail’s steps towards the saloon. As usual on a Friday night, the trio was headed to the Stardrop for a few hours of pizza, pool, and beer. But tonight would be different.

Abigail continued, “I’ll distract Gus with a pizza order. Sebastian, you take your time with Emily. Maybe tonight you want to sample a new beer or something. Just keep her on Shane’s side of the bar.”

The trio stopped in front of the stairs that led to the saloon’s porch. Turning to Sam, Abigail confirmed the final piece of the puzzle. “How many quarters did we save again?”

“We have ten dollars and fifty cents. It’s two songs for a dollar, so we have enough for… 21 songs.”

Abigail nodded, “You know what to do.”

Entering the Stardrop, the trio split ways. Sebastian sat on a barstool by the fireplace, telling Emily to take her time, he was in no rush. Abigail dropped her bag in a booth before returning to the bar near the register to order the group’s food. Sam headed to the jukebox.

He began to insert all 42 quarters into the jukebox, selecting their chosen song as every 2 quarters fell into the slot. Suddenly, Abigail’s eyes lit up and she quietly joined Sam in the corner of the room as the voice of Tom Jones filled the air.

“How many songs have you chosen?”

“7.”

“Throw in… this one,” She pointed to the next song on the list. “Then use the rest on the first song.”

Sam flashed a smile and selected the new song. Continuing to push quarters in the machine, he selected a total of 21 songs.

7 repeat plays of _What’s New Pussycat_. 1 play of _It’s Not Unusual_. Then 13 plays of _What’s New Pussycat_.

Abigail placed the pizza order before returning to the corner booth she selected: one that offered a clear view of the whole saloon. Sam followed her, innocently chatting with Emily as he passed the bar. Sebastian brought over 3 pints of cider, and the trio silently toasted to their success.

As the first play of _What’s New Pussycat_ faded, the three sipped their drinks, watching to see how the room would react. As expected, Emily kept singing along as she filled orders and bussed tables, not a care in the world. Robin and Demetrius, dancing in the corner, cocked their heads at the continued song, but kept dancing. Robin guessed the song was just longer than she remembered.

At their table, Marnie and Lewis hummed along, not expecting the song to keep going, but pleased nonetheless. Leah and Elliot continued chatting, not paying attention to the music coming from the jukebox behind them. Gus was busy taking orders, and Shane was… Shane. Pam was already half-drunk, and on her way to fully inebriated.

After the fourth play, the trio began to see little signs of irritation throughout the room. Sebastian snorted into his glass as he heard Shane mumble obscenities under his breath. Gus dropped their pizza on the table, not offering his usually friendly “Enjoy!” before he returned to the bar to angrily wash glasses.

Robin and Demetrius had stopped dancing, opting to sit down until a new song came on. Marnie and Lewis continued their conversation, throwing annoyed glances towards the speakers. Leah seemed off-put by the repeated songs, and Elliot was rubbing his temples as their chat continued. Even Emily had stopped singing as she handed the group another round of cider. Shane gazed into his beer. Pam was asleep at the bar. 

What’s New Pussycat played for the _seventh_ time, fading into nothing.

_It's not unusual to be loved by anyone_

_It's not unusual to have fun with anyone_

_But when I see you hanging about with anyone_

_It's not unusual to see me cry, I wanna die_

Relief swept through the crowd, and lively chatter began again. Robin and Demetrius left their table to groove to the new song, and you could see Marnie’s shoulders relax as she leaned into her conversation with Lewis. The trio waited with bated breath, watching the room as _It’s Not Unusual_ came to an end.

“This is it,” Abigail whispered to the table.

Silence. Then.

_What's new pussycat, whoa_

_What's new pussycat, whoa, oh whoa_

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Shane threw his crumpled beer can on the counter and stormed out of the saloon. Abigail cackled as the room around them descended into chaos.

Hiding a smile behind his glass, Sam watched Gus kick the base of the jukebox before unplugging it from the wall. Standing up, he locked eyes with Sam from across the room. Sam’s smile dropped and the trio stopped laughing, intimidated by the Gus’ sudden intensity. Gus’ face reddened and he started towards the booth.

Panicking, Sam grabbed a slice of pizza to-go and ran from the booth, urging his friends to do the same. “Go, go, go, GO, GO!”

The trio fell over themselves as they pushed through the saloon door, Gus’ voice booming behind them through the rising level of shouts from his patrons, “Are you KIDDING ME?!”


	4. Through the Fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 22\. Smoke, Fog, and Haze: Write about not being able to see ahead of you.  
> The farmer ventures to the Skull Caverns.

Besides my shallow breathing, the only sound echoing through the mine came from the small pool of water behind me as condensation slowly dripped from the stalactites hanging on the ceiling. A thick haze covered this floor, rising throughout the cave to obstruct my vision.

I had gone further into the Skull Cavern than I had previously dared, enticed by the promise of larger ore deposits weaving through the walls, and rare gems tucked into the boulders scattered throughout the mines. I wasn’t prepared for the creatures that lived in these depths. Terrifying, chilling, dangerous creatures.

Pulling my hand from my aching side, I examined the wound inflicted by a flying serpent’s barbed tail. My fingers and ribcage dripped red, and breathing was becoming difficult as I blindly grasped for a wall beside me, searching for purchase in the haze.

The serpent had attacked shortly after I climbed down the rickety ladder, and I lost my exit path in the fight as I moved deeper into the cave to dodge its attacks. The swirling body lay at my feet, cut in two after several minutes of panic and struggle. 

Suddenly, a horrific screech echoed through the cave, and I braced myself, ignoring the gash on my side to pull out a small dagger that matched the shimmering purple of my sword. I knelt low to the ground, sword in my right hand held aloft, and dagger in my left arm crossed in front of my body, just as Marlon taught me. The creature again sounded off in the distance, but I couldn’t place what direction it would appear from. The fog would block any view of the creature before it was directly in front of me. I needed to react quickly, wherever it came from.

I heard a soft rustle coming from my right. I turned just in time as the flying serpent emerged from the mist, teeth bared and claws outstretched. I dodged to the side, swinging my blade into the air I just left. I felt the iridium blade tug at the scaled skin of the monster as it screeched again and flew into the cave. This was their move. Attack, retreat. Attack, retreat. Attack, retreat. Until one of us succumbed to our wounds.

The creature had vanished towards the right. Unless this level was a full circle, it should be coming from the right again. I stepped towards the left, hoping to back into the wooden ladder that would deliver me to safety. The haze never ended as I slowly felt my way around the room.

Another screech, followed by a guttural roar. But this time, no time to react as the serpent again appeared through the fog. I stepped to the side, bringing down my sword with all my strength onto the serpent and knocking it to the ground. In its shock, the serpent struggled on the ground and I raised my sword again to end its life. The creature quickly scuttled across the ground, leaving a wing that I had severed from its body. It lashed at me, barbed tail and claws fighting desperately as its remaining wing barely kept its long body in the air. I defended myself against claws and teeth, using the dagger as offense when it got closer.

One, two, then three stabs in its belly. The serpent screeched, in pain or in anger, and renewed its attacks. I was growing weary, the aching pain in my rib growing stronger with every jab and cross. The serpent turned its back on me in an attempt to retreat once more, and I seized the opportunity to sever its remaining wing. The body fell to the ground, writhing in pain, horrendous noises echoing from its jaws. I swung my purple blade into its neck, and the screeching ended.

I staggered backwards, falling against the hard wall behind me. I had to find the exit. I stumbled through the room, keeping one hand on the wall as I discovered more injuries the second serpent had dealt. Its tail had struck my leg, leaving a deep gash across my calf. The claws had taken a chunk from my left arm. The trail of blood behind me hinted at more wounds, unseen through my clothing and unfelt through my shock.

I passed a broken boulder, small pebbles surrounding the omni geode that I had found earlier in the day. I was going the right way. The serpent attacked just as I struck the boulder containing the treasure, and I had abandoned it in the fight. The ladder was near.

A screech resounded faintly through mine. No, no, no, no. The ladder was right here. I was so close. I willed my body to move faster against my injuries, limping through the rocks and fog. The ladder appeared through the mist, a mere three feet away. Just a few more steps. I sheathed my dagger and reached out a trembling hand to grasp a rung. I was almost there.

Claws tore through my outstretched shoulder and I screamed at the fiery pain radiating throughout my body. I felt cold teeth through the warm breath of the serpent on my back, its barbed tail wrapping around my leg to pull me to the ground.

Black seeped into my vision, crawling in from the sides to envelope me in darkness as the sword fell from my hand. The last sound I heard was the clank of iridium on the cold, rocky ground.


	5. Haley's Diary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 54\. Dear Diary: Write a poem or short story about a diary entry you’ve read or imagined.

Dear Diary,

We just moved into our new house! Emily got the bigger room, of course. Just because she’s just the tiniest bit older than me. Ugh. But mine has the bigger closet so I guess it’s okay. I also have a really nice window that looks out over the garden, so I’ll get some natural light over my vanity. Mom and Dad are really excited to move here, even though I think I’m going to miss the city.

Oh! There’s a cute boy that lives next door! His mom introduced us when she brought cookies over but he didn’t say much. His hair was really blonde and spiky but in a cute way. Today he was hanging out by the river in front of the house. If he’s there again tomorrow I’m going to put on my cutest outfit and go sit with him. Find out if he has a girlfriend! Before we left the city, I got a recipe from the Queen of Sauce for a Pink Cake. Maybe I can make it for Sam sometime soon.

There was another boy at the store earlier too. I only saw him as he was leaving, but he had on a gridball shirt. I don’t know if he’s a player or just a fan. I hope he’s a player! Maybe Sam will have a little competition!

After we settle in, Mom and Dad have another trip planned. They say they won’t be gone too long, and Emily and I will be in charge while they’re away. I think that’s part of the reason we moved here. They want us to be safe but don’t want to drop us off at Aunt Emma’s or anything. I guess this is just easier for them. One day I think they’re going to fly away and never come back.

They did get me a new camera. I think they feel a little guilty about moving us here. Emily isn’t as upset, but I’m not really happy about it. All my friends are still there so that really sucks I won’t be with them all the time.

Alright, diary. I think that’s all I have to write today. Hopefully something happens with Sam and I’ll have something fun to talk about tomorrow!

Love, Haley


	6. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4\. Dancing: Who’s dancing and why are they tapping those toes?

There’s a sort of easiness that comes from a long relationship. Sure, you still have to commit to your love every single day, but many things get easier as time goes by. You know the morning routine: you pop bread in the toaster and step to the side in time for her to open the cabinet that holds the coffee mugs. You cross the kitchen to turn off the coffee maker, stepping aside in time for her to open the fridge and pull out the butter and jam. She closes the cutlery drawer with her hip after you retrieve a knife and spoon. Perfect synchronization.

Mornings with Robin are easy.

_Life_ isn’t always easy. When your stepson hates you and your daughter seems ready to leave the nest, life isn’t perfect. There are fights between you and Robin, you and Sebastian, Sebastian and Robin, even you and Maru on occasion. Fights about money, about your research, about punishments for the kids, about that silly farmer, about vacations. Each day brings a new problem that you have to solve, and sometimes the problems build up until you feel like you’re about to explode like sodium in water.

But Friday nights are easy.

You and Robin sway to the beat, effortlessly mimicking each other’s movements after hundreds of Friday nights spent in the Saloon. Ever since Sebastian and Maru were old enough to stay by themselves, Friday night has been for you and Robin, spent drinking and dancing in the cozy closeness of the bar.

By now, the evening feels like pressing repeat on a playlist you’ve heard a million times, but it’s not tiresome. It’s comforting to know that no matter how the week has gone and what challenges came up, Friday will be there.

_Forward, back, left, right. Forward, back, left, right._ The same steps, the same woman you’ve loved for two decades now. The same bar where you first saw her, repairing a hole in Gus’ floorboard. Every Friday night is like Robin’s embrace: Warm. Loving. Always there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man. I haven't written in about a month because life is life. I'm a little rusty!


	7. Spaghetti Sauce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5\. Food: What’s for breakfast? Dinner? Lunch? Or maybe you could write a poem about that time you met a friend at a cafe.

The smell of sautéing garlic and shallots wafted through the Saloon and filled the rooms with delectable aromatics. Gus inhaled deeply before adding a hefty pinch of salt and pepper to the pot.

He remembered the first meal he cooked here in the Saloon, almost 20 years ago tonight. His father, owner of the Stardrop, had left him in charge for the first time ever, saying “Sink or swim, Gus. Sink or swim.” And Yoba, how he swam that night.

Gus swirled the pan before dumping in a large bowl of crushed tomatoes, recently harvested on Manderley Farm. Ever since the new farmer had taken over the dilapidated old acreage, the produce in Pelican Town had been fresher and more delicious than ever. Gus knew how to make canned tomatoes or days-old produce shipped in from other towns into delicious and flavorful dishes, but nothing compared to a tomato picked from the vine just that morning.

His first night running the bar so long ago, the new blacksmith walked into the Saloon and asked for a warm meal to take the edge off the cold, rainy evening. Clint too was taking over his father’s role, and the two men had developed a quick friendship. But the request for a hot meal was unusual. Gus’ father usually only provided cheap bar food: pretzels, peanuts, frozen appetizers defrosted in the microwave.

He had served Clint his first round of beer and asked for 30 minutes to whip up something to feed the blacksmith. Taking a step into the back room, he examined the pantry: a few onions, garlic, canned tomatoes, linguine, potatoes, and a bag of apples next to flour, sugar, and oil. The fridge was even sparser, holding just butter and milk. A few lemons and limes sat by the bar in case a guest decided on something fancier than a draft beer. Gus scanned the room and put flavors together in his mind.

Dad was never a cook, and the pantry was bare the day before the weekly grocery shop. Mom always had a stocked pantry, a pot of tea brewing, and cookies in the oven. As he stared at the empty shelves, Gus smiled fondly at the memories of his childhood spent in the kitchen with his late mother. Suddenly, her recipe for her own mother’s marinara popped into Gus’ head. It had been years since he cooked the sauce she loved so much. He had everything he needed in the kitchen and could whip up a batch of sauce and let it simmer while he served Clint another beer. Within minutes, the Saloon’s clientele was inquiring about the delicious scent wafting from the kitchen. Mayor Lewis, Willy, and Robin and her new husband were eagerly sniffing the garlicky goodness and placing orders for dishes of spaghetti.

Since that first night, Gus had worked to make his grandmother’s recipe his own. He experimented with spices and herbs and different amounts until reaching the special blend he now added to the bubbling pot: fresh basil and oregano picked from the small windowsill garden in the kitchen, dried thyme harvested and dehydrated each fall, a sprig of rosemary from Caroline’s garden, and a healthy spoon of red pepper flakes.

That night 20 years ago, his now-famous spaghetti sold out within the hour, and Clint and Willy ordered second helpings with their next round of drinks. Each customer who stepped into the Saloon that night ordered the dish and Gus eventually had bring out the scraped-clean pot to prove that he was in fact sold out. His father came home the next day to a register full of cash, an empty pantry, and a proposal from Gus, detailing how much he could make the Saloon if he was given the chance to cook on a regular basis. Given how little he had spent on ingredients and how much profit the spaghetti brought in last night, Gus estimated he could almost double their profit on any given day if the demand kept up. After careful scrutiny and a barrage of questions, his father agreed to a trial run of basic dishes.

20 years later, Gus still served that spaghetti, and Clint still ordered it once a week. He experimented with different dishes every so often and loved to bring new flavors to the residents of Pelican Town. But the spaghetti was the start of it all. Gus put the lid back on the bubbling pot and began to clean the kitchen, preparing for the night’s dinner service. In just under an hour, Gus would take his spot at the bar, wash his glasses, and serve his friends and neighbors the dish that connected Gus to his family and his town.


End file.
